


skinny love

by PersephoneHemingway



Series: pH [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Mycroft Holmes, Alpha Sherlock Holmes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anorexia, Big Brother Mycroft Holmes, Big Brother Sherlock Holmes, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brother/Sister Incest, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Eating Disorders, F/M, Guilt, Heavy Petting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, Incest, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, No Eurus Holmes, Not Britpicked, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, One Shot, POV Second Person, Possessive Mycroft, Possessive Sherlock, Praise Kink, Protective Mycroft Holmes, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Reader-Insert, Self-Indulgent, Shame, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Transitions what transitions?, holmescest, reader with a name - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneHemingway/pseuds/PersephoneHemingway
Summary: alpha, alpha, omega.my, my, what happened here?
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Original Female Character(s), Mycroft Holmes/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character, Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes/You, Mycroft Holmes/You, Sherlock Holmes/Original Female Character(s), Sherlock Holmes/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/You
Series: pH [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522466
Comments: 12
Kudos: 246





	skinny love

**Author's Note:**

> this has been stewing for a long, long time.
> 
> *you are persephone holmes.

The game was on and you were all suffering for it.

Omega. _Omega.  
_

_No. You couldn't be._

But your cramps and your slick told a story, even if it wasn't the story you wanted to hear.

_You can't let them know. You can't._

So you found a way to hide it.

Bad habits are so easy to fall back on.

Once Sherlock noticed something was off about you, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it long. He'd seen the trail of blood, and he wouldn't stop until he found the body.

Unfortunately for you, the body was yours—and the body was starving.

You'd prepared for this though, and you knew one secret would be enough cover for another.

You bought yourself a little more time.

A little more time for your brothers to love you before they found out what you were:

_Omega._

&

The Holmes family history was populated by Alphas.

All of western society worshipped Alphas.

Anorexia was much less of a scandal than your designation, in your eyes. Your designation would change everything. An eating disorder—you could recover from. You could manage. You could change. There was no changing your secondary gender.

But you _could_ hide it.

If you could control your weight, you could contain your presentation.

If you could keep your BMI low enough, the resulting hormonal imbalance would prevent your menstrual and estrous cycles—you could essentially present yourself as Beta as long as you stayed thin.

So you stayed thin.

&

Naturally, Sherlock had assumed the onset of your restrictive eating habits was triggered by his departure—you’d both been hit hard when Mycroft moved away, after all, so it wasn’t such a reach that you’d react the same when it was Sherlock’s turn to leave home.

And sure, that was part of it.

You were lonely; you missed your brothers—and it didn’t help that Sherlock was such a bad influence when it came to his choice in coping mechanisms.

It was easy for you to blame your behavior on being left behind—it was partially true, after all.

So when Sherlock confronted you, you took it. You took his yelling and his upset, his pleading and concern... You let him guilt you and you promised to get better. _Just please, please, don't tell Mycroft!_

And he agreed.

And you were more careful.

Until you got bad again.

And of course, Sherlock would be around at the perfect time to catch your slip-up.

&

You’d finally left the nest of the Holmes Manor as well, with a full ride pre-med at some prestigious uni you honestly couldn’t care less about.

They were all so proud of you.

If only they knew your interest in biochemistry was rooted in the field’s potential to secure you high-quality extra-strength suppressants. You could get away with anything if you called it “research.”

Three years, a B.S. in Biochemistry, and an MCAT later, you were kicking off your first year of med school, and the only times you ever saw your brothers were at Mummy’s Christmas dinners.

You always tried to fatten yourself up a bit beforehand so Sherlock wouldn’t get suspicious.

It had all been working well so far, though you were more prone to the common cold than the average individual. You didn’t mind much.

A body was just transport, after all, and it was transporting you just fine.

Four weeks before the end of your third semester and you decided you were done with medical school.

You’d already published enough in Alpha/Omega Studies to be a competent research fellow with or without the full certification, and honestly, while your intelligence could get you through, you’d be a shit doctor considering your lack of bedside manner.

You didn’t say much.

But as you considered your reflection in the dark glass outside the Registrar’s Office, you thought, _well, at least I’m still a stunner._

&

You took that and turned it into a modeling career.

Persephone Holiday, full-time editorial and runway model, rising star—the industry went _nuts_ over your cheekbones.

You often thought of how they’d lose their _minds_ if they ever saw Sherlock.

(And as his Consulting Detective career picked up enough for his face to start gracing newspapers, you found that you were absolutely correct).

Mycroft had always discouraged you from falling back on your beauty—ever-pushing for the Holmes intellect to be your focus.

But hey– fuck him. It’s not like he really cared anyway. He left.

&

Christmas had come ‘round again, and you had to balance precariously on the hormonal iceberg. You usually liked keeping yourself leaner to stave off the danger of presenting, but you had to cut it close to try and shirk Sherlock’s attentions.

The goal was to get your body healthy enough to where you could pass it all off as a consequence of your new modeling career. Worst case, you were mostly gonna wing it and hope Sherlock caved to your begging as he did before.

You made the last-minute decision to double your suppressant intake.

Mummy and Father were going to be late to meet you three at the manor—they’d had to fly out suddenly for one reason or another and would be back halfway through your visiting week just after Christmas. They were very apologetic, but you all waved it off.

You were the first to arrive in the empty home, and you beelined to your old room.

You stood in front of the mirror, looked at yourself snarky and Holmesian, and hoped it would be enough.

&

There was something cloying in the air. You made a mental note to throw out the body mist you applied that morning–it clearly wasn’t blending well with you.

You indulged in perfume because most other Betas did too. _We always want what we don’t have, eh?_

You were halfway through your second day alone at the manor eating popcorn and watching a bad movie upside down.

Sherlock had texted that he and Mycroft should be there in the late afternoon. Apparently, they’d somehow ended up stuck driving over in the same car. You wondered how well that was working out—two Holmes on shaky terms; two _Alphas_ …

And that’s when you realized the scent wasn’t this morning’s perfume, it was _you_.

_Had you taken your suppressants?_

_Had you taken anything that could’ve counteracted your suppressants?_

You ran through your mental encyclopedia of drug interactions and prayed you didn’t find a match.

You didn’t.

But what you felt coming on… it was inevitable— _how?_

 _You know how, you bloody moron, the hormone overflow from the extra suppressants probably triggered an emergency reaction and as a last ditch effort to find a big strong Alpha to come save you…_ you were going into heat.

Outright panic and total adrenaline flooded your system.

_What were you gonna do?_

&

The brothers Holmes arrived to you, inconsolable, distraught, and unmistakably Omega.

It was a shock, and you were _terrified_.

"I can't be Omega, I can't! I CAN'T! I was supposed to be Alpha like you two!"

You paced; you flung yourself onto and off of furniture. Your hands were in your hair and on your arms, running down your legs and pinching at your sides—grabbing and pulling in distress and disappointment at the body you couldn’t abandon without losing yourself too.

They’d never seen you like this—they could only watch the meltdown as their brains worked to process the new information you’d finally been careless enough to let slip. You had a good run.

“I did everything I could to prevent this— _everything_!”

Sherlock took that moment to suddenly process the last decade of your interactions, and his face split in anger while Mycroft’s fell solemn.

Sherlock’s first action was to call John. As a Beta, a doctor, and a friend who came when called, it seemed the best option. Waving his hands wildly, John made excuses about how he wasn’t that kind of doctor—nevertheless, he went in and was able to calm you to a fitful sleep as your vitals stabilized.

He left a knotting toy discretely on your bedside table before he left the siblings with their revelation.

&

Your emergency heat had settled down by the following afternoon.

The brothers were exhausted from the worry— and from holding back.

John had left them with extra-strength scent-blockers to smooth their bristling Alphas, but even blind-nosed it was still a feat for an Alpha to deliberately ignore the cries of an Omega in heat.

They sat musing around a coffee table.

“Well, she always has been eager to please,”

“Mycroft, really,”

They both stared at their feet, wondering how on earth they could’ve missed this—their baby sister, _an Omega_. And absolutely _crippled_ with shame because of it.

“Mycroft, there’s something else… that she hasn’t told you…”

&

Mycroft was _furious_ when Sherlock explained your history of disordered eating. (He was also ashamed he didn’t catch it sooner, that he hadn’t been paying attention, that he had assumed you were doing fine… but he had to play the stern, disappointed older brother right now so he hid his guilt).

&

You were buzzing with the need to retaliate somehow—internalizing the instinctual strife of _Alpha is disappointed in you. Alpha thinks you deserve to be punished. You’re a bad Omega._ The biological need to lash out was too much to handle—after all, this was the first time all your emotions were hitting you as a full Omega. You were post-heat and Mycroft had confiscated your suppressants.

 _“I_ know _you know how dangerous these are without a proper prescription and base hormonal assessment!”_

_“Which is also how I know the way I was dosing myself was perfectly safe!”_

_“Safe, maybe, but not_ healthy _, sister mine! It’s not ethical for a doctor to prescribe to oneself!”_

_“Well then it’s a good thing I dropped out of med school, eh!?”_

Of course, that revelation kicked off a whole new round of yelling and disappointment.

The whole ordeal left you with an unbearable itch that would only go away if you either broke down in total distress to inspire Alpha pity, or begged on your knees for forgiveness and offered up anything to please Alpha in return— all so you could be _good_ again.

Naturally, your pride couldn’t bear for you to do either.

So you took out your internal conflict on Sherlock.

After swallowing Mycroft’s bitter lecture, your first act was to storm over to Sherlock, Mycroft close behind.

_Find anyone else to blame but yourself, yeah?_

“ _How could you_ , Sherlock!?” You repeatedly hit your hands across his chest. “I- Y-you _promised!_ You _promised_ you wouldn’t tell him—!” Your fury was quickly dissolving into tantrum tears.

“But did you keep _your_ promise, hm?” He advanced on you. “Or did you keep restricting? Keep denying your body what it needs?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t get caught up and forget to eat for days!”

“My forgetting to eat because I’m on a case isn’t the same as you deliberately starving yourself to prevent a presentation! It’s different when it’s _you-_ “

“Why!? How!? How is it different, Sherlock? You’re an addict! _The body is just transport,_ _it doesn’t matter what I do to it,_ hmm? Why does it only apply to you?”

Sherlock threw his hands up.

“Does no one understand my experiments—"

The guilt was building, and Mycroft too needed the pressure to ease.

“Sherlock, I cannot believe— you have allowed your consistently poor choices to inspire _our sister_ —”

“Don’t pin this on me! You stopped paying attention ages ago— when you left!”

Mycroft closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his temple. He cursed himself for steaming; he’d had more practice in patience, he should’ve done better.

“You are right, of course; I should have been paying attention.”

Your frustration burst.

“It’s not your fault, it was my choice! And it’s not like I’m an idiot— I knew what I was doing to hide it from you… it’s not like I ever gave you any concern to look close enough before!”

“Oh, so you deliberately deceived us? Took advantage of our trust in you?” Mycroft _knew_ how much that’d sting you; and it stung. You ducked your head down, more vulnerable than usual to Sherlock and Mycroft’s disapproval due to your.. _condition_. Your defenses were melting away with all the Alpha hormones in the air. You were losing your bite.

“M’sorry…”

“What was that, Persephone? _Do_ speak up.” Mycroft was sharp and cold where Sherlock had been wildly emotional. _You were used to him taking your side_. _You were supposed to be the good girl._ From this, you dug deep and pulled from yourself one last tantrum (in true Sherlockian form).

“I’m sorry! I’m sooooo sorry, okay!? Okay!? I’m sorry you got stuck with some worthless dropout Omega sister with anxiety issues and a wild self-deprecating streak—"

Somewhere in all the shouting, it strikes your brothers again that all of this was because _you were ashamed to be Omega_ —that at some point growing up, you’d absorbed this idea that _they_ would be ashamed of you because you were Omega. That they’d be disappointed in your biology. That they wouldn’t love you anymore.

The brothers shared a look.

“ _Persephone_.”

“ _Stop_ , Perse.”

You opened your mouth and then closed it.

“Did you just- are you trying to- _what?_ No. No no no, you don’t get to use your big strong _Alpha voices_ to make me calm down; I don’t care— you can be angry or upset or disappointed in me— but you don’t get to turn me off; if I want to spiral into an emotional collapse, I’m gonna fucking spir-“

Mycroft took a step back and inelegantly landed in an armchair.

"Oh, Percy..."

The intense _weariness_ suddenly stricken across Mycroft’s face was all it took for you to cut off. You felt meek. _I caused him so much trouble… my Alpha_. _(Not your Alpha, Persephone, get your shit together)._

Sherlock took a chance.

“You know… we’re not angry because you’re Omega, Perse.”

“We are upset because of what you did to hide it from us.”

You tucked your chin and said nothing.

"We’ve been ignoring you; is that what all this has been about? We haven’t been paying attention and now you’re worried we’ll be paying too much?"

“And you don’t know if it’ll be because we care, because we feel obligated, or because you’re _Omega_.”

You nodded once, eyes downcast. You hadn’t any energy left to give.

Sherlock pulled you into his side and spoke into your hair.

“We’ll take care of you, sister ours. You know that.”

You mumbled into his shoulder.

“ _You shouldn’t have to.”_

&

Christmas was pretty uneventful after that. Mummy and Father were filled in on your Omega designation, which they shrugged off and accepted immediately after. No one mentioned anything about the events that led up to the discovery. You all had a nice Christmas dinner and returned to London soon after.

&

Christmas passes and Mycroft’s surveillance escalates to “helicopter parent.”

He initially wanted you to move in with him or Sherlock, but you flat-out refused— _suddenly I’m Omega and I need a babysitter? No. Pass. I can still live on my own and do whatever work I please just fine, thanks._

So you strike a kind of compromise.

You all download Snapchat (Mycroft begrudgingly), and you’re tasked with sending snaps to your brothers for every meal as proof you’re eating. Mycroft often criticizes your unhealthy eating choices, but with you sending your snaps on time, he really can’t complain.

Mycroft has CCTV cameras turning to follow you—he doesn’t even hide it. I guess it’s what you wanted—for him to pay more attention to you. Now at least he watches you the way he watches Sherlock, (more or less waiting for you to fuck up or to find trouble). There’s an overprotective sort of care there.

You can take that; you can take that care and knead it into something Alpha for your Omega to digest. You can pretend they want you safe as both brothers and Alphas. Sure you can.

&

Mycroft has been making a point to be more supportive of Omega Rights—as much as a Whitehall secret weapon can be publicly supportive of anything, anyway.

&

The brothers received a Snapchat from you with a hunk of cinnamon roll in your mouth. You appeared to be backstage somewhere. They set their phones back down on the kitchen table one after the other. 

“Did you know?”

“About?”

“Percy dropping out of medical school.”

“…I did not.” Mycroft dropped his head into his hands and massaged at his temples. “I hadn't heard from her in months, I assumed she was just busy with her studies.”

“Oh, so you weren’t tracking her movements then? No surveillance cameras in her flat?”

“Persephone did not have a history of poor decisions, unlike you. I’ve been watching her more now, though…”

A silence sat between them; Mycroft broke it.

“I’ve been compiling a list of Alphas who may be worthy of her…”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped to Mycroft’s.

“Don’t. Don’t do that. She won’t like it.”

“I don’t care what she wants, but what she _needs_. And she will need an Alpha soon, now that she’ll be going through regular unsuppressed heats.”

“She’ll-“

“She will _live_.”

&

Sherlock followed Mycroft the whole way to your flat trying to talk him out of giving you that dreadful _Alpha ultimatum_.

You were in the kitchen slicing tomatoes when your brothers crashed in, arguing. You called to them over the counter.

“What’s got you two fighting again? State secrets? Gingersnaps?”

A thick stack of assembled papers lands on a surface within your line of sight.

When you look over at the file before you, a dread settles in your stomach. You put the knife down.

“My, what is this?”

“ _A bad idea, that’s what it is..” Sherlock wanted to make sure you knew he was against it, even if he couldn’t stop it._

“ _Sherlock_. _Leave._ ” Mycroft snapped sharp. He turned back to you softly as Sherlock swooped out the front door in a huff. “It’s a dossier. Of suitable Alphas— all background checked. Please, at least give it a look-“

“No. No- no no no— no. No.” In your panic, you somehow manage to snap yourself back to stoic—you would not allow yourself to break down again in front of one of your Alpha brothers. Not over this. They’d never forgive you this.

“Persephone, you know as well as I do that you cannot keep avoiding-“

“Get out.” He’d never heard you so bitter. Empty. Dejected. —all adjectives Mycroft wouldn’t pick up in your voice until you’d already gone.

“I understand you are upset, but-“

“Mycroft,” You breathed, “ _Get. Out._ ”

And he did.

You were gone by morning.

&

When you saw the stack of files and realized what they were, your whole world collapsed.

You’d always known you loved your brothers more than you should.

Your biology reacted the same to the dossier as it would’ve to an outright rejection.

You didn’t want to be so cliché as to call it heartbreak, but it was, and all you could bear to do was run.

You didn’t leave without a trail of breadcrumbs— you didn’t really want to be rid of them after all. You wanted them to come find you.

The longer they took, the worse you spiraled.

You never intended to let yourself get so bad.

They found you weeks later collapsed in a Chicago drug den, skinny as fuck with half your hair chopped off.

Staying with Mycroft was no longer a choice for you.

You didn’t mind much because you didn’t have the will to move anyway.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that Mycroft had used his connections to hunt you down— they’d never found your notes. It only made you feel worse that they didn’t bother looking at what you’d left behind for clues.

But a week after your return and Sherlock found your breadcrumbs— hints revealing your runaway travel itinerary started in the manila Alpha dossier and followed a little treasure trail through your favorite family albums, ending with a picture of the three of you together on a Valentine's day before you first fell apart, with the boys on either side of you kissing your cheeks as you beamed. The four cities you might have fled to were written plain on the back.

Sherlock _really_ knew then why the Alpha list was such a bad idea.— but he didn’t want to push it too soon. He knew you’d still be disappointed they didn’t find you sooner. You needed to recover.

Sherlock started by taking you into 221b and making you laugh again.

&

You lay on the couch with your legs in Sherlock’s lap as he was bent over the coffee table mixing substances into a storm. You’d encouraged his rambling with an offhand question every-so-often, but you’d lost focus and started looking for patterns in the ceiling as Sherlock continued his chemistry.

When you came back to yourself, the silence was unsettling. Something was between you, nearly tangible. It was rare— for such a lull in conversation to fall between you. You figured it was time. You sighed like a sad song.

"Sher, I know you know by now. Why I really left. So go on, why haven’t you said anything?"

"I thought my actions had been saying enough."

He hadn’t even missed a beat, like he’d been waiting for you to bring it up— he wasn’t even looking at you. You startled, suddenly recalling the comforts, the care, the physical affection… all so casual between you now, but when had such things ever been characteristic of Sherlock? _Of course he’d have noticed our static sooner, but when did he get so good at being discrete?_

He set down a flask and nudged your feet off his lap. You straightened.

" _Sherlock_.."

"Persephone." _He never called you Persephone._ A soft inhale, lips parted. You leaned back before you scooted closer, setting one hand to his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. careful, careful, eyes locked as you tried to read him for any misunderstanding. You saw none, but you didn't see what you were looking for either, and almost blew away—but then his hand came to your hip and you buried your nose in his neck. He scented you as you scented him. You pulled away just a touch so you could look again in his eyes, and then you kissed him. You almost _came_ when he kissed you back.

This was the most attention you'd ever gotten from an Alpha and you were absolutely dizzy with it. Your Omega brain was chanting _AlphaAlphaAlpha_ and your entire being flooded with Sherlock.

He laughed at your little mewls, and you _purred_.

"You make the prettiest noises, 'mega."

You made more of them.

&

You kept it quiet and got closer.

Mycroft finds out easily and understands the same. He pulled you into his lap with the sweetest expression on his face.

"Oh Percy, why didn't you just _say_?"

"M-My?"

"Per-se-pho-ne.." he whispered to your neck under your ear. You gave a full body shiver and melted into Mycroft's arms. He rocked you slow.

"I'm so sorry I didn't realize... I never meant to make you think... that I didn't want you for myself..."

Your body absolutely _drowned_ in hormones upon learning big brother Mycroft wanted you too. Your eyes blurred to a pupil-blown black and you were memory foam between your brothers.

"Mycroft, you should really hear her purr."

"Oh, you've purred for Sherlock, have you?" You blushed and nodded into his chest.

"What'll it take for you to purr for me, do you think?" Your eyes went wide.

"It doesn't take much, brother mine." Sherlock tucked some of your wild hair behind your ear.

"She's so sweet like this, no wonder you wanted her all to yourself."

"Mm, I love seeing her all overwhelmed. Suits her."

Mycroft leaned in for a murmur.

"Need your big Alpha brothers to help quiet that wild mind of yours, little Omega?" You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, tensing in anticipation. You were trying to regain control now, afraid of what you wanted. A new rush of slick escaped you anyway, and the responding scent of two pleased Alphas soothed you back into their arms. Your chin reached blindly to nuzzle their necks, and they bent to you.

You were vibrating with need, but still unsure. _It was too good to be true, wasn't it?_

They sensed your doubt.

"Persephone, look at us."

"We love you, Percy. We love you."

"We love you. Omega or no."

"We love you. We want you."

"And you love us. Want us." There wasn't a hint of Alpha compulsion in their voices. This was simple truth.

_These Alphas want me. They love me. I'm worthy. And I love them. They deserve me. It was always us._

&

Mycroft walked into the bedroom to see you laying on your side, eyes closed, hands above your stomach.

"All's well, 'mega?"

"Mm, I'm so full."

"Full, hmm?" Mycroft slid up behind you and rubbed his hands over your belly. "Mm, yes. Good 'mega. Taking care of herself, so healthy for her Alphas." He gave you little kisses all along your shoulder and neck.

You smiled and purred, and the two of you napped away your lunch until Sherlock found you and demanded you accompany him to a gallery opening for a case.

Mycroft tried to dress you up in something proper, but you swatted his hands away and pulled on a pair of ripped jeans to spite him.

"You'll be punished for this later, Omega." He murmured, then nipped the tip of your ear. You squeaked and glared at his back as he walked ahead. _I look forward to it._

&

"Excuse me, would you like to try that again, Omega?"

You opened and then closed your mouth, choosing instead to pout and tug impatiently at the hem of the button-down you’d stolen from Sherlock to sleep in.

“Oh, pouting again, Persephone? Speak up, now.”

You twisted to and fro, ducking your chin and mumbling.

"I wanna be your good girl, My."

"Oh? And what of Sherlock?"

"She already is my good girl, brother mine. Aren't you, kitten?"

A matter-of-fact nod. Mycroft had a wicked smirk. Sherlock went for a stir.

"Keep talking to her, she _loves_ that."

"Hmm, does she? Our sweet Omega, sweet sister mine..." You muffled a whimper into your sleeve. "You like our voices, they make you slick and needy for us? Our brilliant little sister, picked apart by words..."

"By voices, her older brothers' praise.. so _good for us,_ Percy, oh so _good_.."

" _Persephone_ ," 

Your sleeve was between your teeth, and you were trembling _just so._

"You like listening to your Alphas?"

You nodded too fast and too many times.

"Yes you do, my perfect little girl..." Mycroft was really milking it with his low growl of a purr. They backed you into the couch. You were _surrounded_ , eyes squeezed shut to hide how far you'd gone.

"You think we could get her to come on our voices alone, My?"

Your eyes shot into saucers, black coffee pouring and with it Sherlock woke as his eyes widened to the same. Mycroft's smirk went wicked.

"It does sound like a worthy challenge, brother mine. Would you like us to talk you to oblivion, Omega?"

Your eyes spoke and your brothers heard: _please don't, please do, please don't make me choose._

Sherlock began.

"Oh, _'mega_ , we've got you, we'll make you feel so good, sweet girl."

"Mm, yes 'mega, you're _ours,_ we can't have enough of you, how good you are, what a perfect little Omega for her Alphas..."

"Does our little 'mega feel hot? Is she needy?"

"Do you need us, Persephone?"

"Tell us, sister dear."

You were shaking your head from side to side in what must've been the beginnings of audio overstimulation—they were so close to you and their voices were warm syrup-sweet. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you mewled and mumbled, squealed and nudged closer to them, chin down in your sleeve, embarrassed. You couldn't hold it in your body, and then they really pulled you apart.

"What if we tongued you open, sweet?"

"Spread you wide and took you at once?"

"You can hardly stand to take one of our knots, how tight you are. What do you think we'd have to do to work you up to both?"

"M-My-!"

"Shh, shh, easy, easy... come down for me..."

"We've got more for you."

"If we trapped you under us, let you feel our weight on yours..."

"Keep close and smother you, with our bodies and scents... no doubt you'd be absolutely wet for it."

"And if you really let us take control... we could press the sides on your neck, restrict airflow, keep you dizzy and pleased."

"We'd trace your pulse and count your heartbeats..."

"It'd be impossible to hide from us."

"We'd know everything, Omega. We'd have all of you."

"We already do."

"Every whine, every scent."

You jerked a few times as you shook, burrowed closer and closer, never enough.

"Oh, Percy..."

You'd soaked through your pants onto the upholstery.

"Filthy little Omega."

"Messing up the furniture?" Mycroft clicked his tongue and used his stern Alpha voice. "Persephone, you know better."

The pseudo-disappointed tone shot you straight into your hindbrain. Your eyes got big and teary and you _whimpered_.

Sherlock ran his hand through your curls.

"Oh, shh, sweet girl. Your Alphas will take care of it."

"We'll take care of you."

It was getting to be too much, and you shoved your hand down the front of your pants and into your pussy.

Mycroft immediately snatched your hand away from yourself.

"Ah, ah, ah..."

"That's not how this game works, little girl." Sherlock chimed in.

"Ooh, messy, messy... look at yourself, 'mega.."

Mycroft held your dripping fingers up to your face, and you submitted, ashamed.

"No no," With his free hand, Mycroft lifted your chin. "'mega, you're going to clean up your mess, aren't you?"

You bobbled and looked nearly pleading as you sucked your own fingers into your mouth, licking away your cream while your Alphas watched, enraptured. You were drawn into a kiss by each brother in turn shortly after.

"Intoxicating."

Somewhere inside, you swelled with pride. Your clit swelled and begged for attention, too, but the game had already been set.

You were upset as they pulled away, but they soothed you with their looks and lips.

"Such a good girl,"

“You'll come untouched for us, won't you?"

Your head fell back, mouth open, and you moaned

"Y-yes, please, Alphas, please!"

Something about the way you squeezed, the tightness of your muscles, the build-up, the pheromones, the taunts, the adoration— something made the impossible possible. And to the surprise of all three of you, you _came_.

With a wail, you shook and shivered, pushing and pulling against them.

You couldn’t settle after; craving a knot, you squirmed between your brothers with the goal of trapping a limb between your thighs for you to rub on— _warm up your Alpha, coax Alpha into you.._

The Alphas were amused.

“Ooh, greedy girl, you want more from us?”

“Already? One orgasm isn’t enough?”

You bit your lip and shook your head.

“Spoiled little sister…”

Your lips fell into a pout and you went to cross your arms, still shaky, but then Sherlock rolled you from the couch to the floor and pinned you, wrists apart.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock tucks his chin to your chest and stares up at you as if you’re prey. “She deserves _everything_.”


End file.
